Certainly! I would allow him to get in far enough, so
that, dead or alive, I might see his face clearly! He must be got
rid of. Mademoiselle Stangerson must be freed from this continual
impending danger.
"Yes, my boy," said Rouletabille, after placing his pipe on the
table, and emptying his mug of cider, "I must see his face
distinctly, so as to make sure to impress it on that part of my
brain where I have drawn my circle of reasoning."
The landlady re-appeared at that moment, bringing in the
traditional bacon omelette. Rouletabille chaffed her a little, and
she took the chaff with the most charming good humour.
"She is much jollier when Daddy Mathieu is in bed with his
rheumatism," Rouletabille said to me.
But I had eyes neither for Rouletabille nor for the landlady's
smiles. I was entirely absorbed over the last words of my young
friend and in thinking over Monsieur Robert Darzac's strange
behaviour.
When he had finished his omelette and we were again alone,
Rouletabille continued the tale of his confidences.
"When I sent you my telegram this morning," he said, "I had only
the word of Monsieur Darzac, that 'perhaps' the assassin would
come to-night.
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